


Old Habits

by miera



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-22
Updated: 2011-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-16 04:36:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment with McCoy reminds Christine of some things she's still trying to let go of from her disastrous relationship with Roger Korby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Habits

Christine is deep into reading a comparative analysis of two alien species' reproductive processes when she hears the chime meaning someone's at her door. She barely pauses in her reading – this paper looks to be crucial to her literature review for her dissertation – to call, "Come in." She expects it's Nyota, although distantly she knows it's a bit late for Ny's schedule, but she doesn't look up until a deep voice quips, "I see you missed me?"

Her head snaps up. McCoy is standing in her quarters, unfastening the collar of his dress uniform, grinning at her.

"Oh, hi. I didn't expect to see you tonight." Obviously, she thinks, given the mess surrounding her. There are padds everywhere and an empty plate from a snack she'd eaten a while ago is balanced on the edge of the desk. She brushes her hand over her messy hair self-consciously when his eyes rake over her body, like they always do when they meet somewhere after hours. She had expected to have the whole night to herself, so she had thrown her hair into a sloppy pony tail and dressed in an ancient pink shirt and a pair of loose pants. She's not exactly dressed for company, especially not his company.

He shrugs and approaches the desk, leaning down to kiss her briefly. "We got back early." Off her look he adds, "It went well, for once. No mortal offenses given, no injuries to them or to us." _Enterprise_ didn't have the best track record when it came to diplomatic meet and greets, which was one of the reasons why the Chief Medical Officer had gone to the planet's surface with the captain.

"Well there's a first time for everything, I suppose," she answers with a smile. She glances around and realizes there's nowhere for him to sit. "Here, just let me..." She doesn't finish, instead scooping a book and a bunch of padds off her bed to clear some space. Of course, there's not really anywhere else to put them so she stacks them on the floor, embarrassed.

"Thanks." He flops down, kicking off his shoes. He doesn't look disturbed by the mess but she's uneasy about the chaos of her usually organized room. He doesn't come here much – rank having its privileges, he has a larger bed, so they usually meet there. He jerks his chin at her desk, which is the epicenter of the piles of research material. "How's it going?"

"Oh, all right." She shrugs and starts tidying up automatically, even though she was only halfway done with her notes on that article. Inanely, she asks again, "So how was the dinner?"

McCoy grabs her arm, turning her to look at him. "The dinner was boring as hell and would you knock it off? I won't stay if you're in the middle of working on something important. I remember what it was like. All you have to do is say so."

She sighs and forces her body to relax. "Sorry. It's okay. I was just reading an article that is probably going to be very helpful."

He leans back, eyebrows raised in genuine curiosity. "What about?"

She sits down, explaining it to him. Some of the tension leaves her as he listens and asks questions. Long before they'd become romantically involved, she had been grateful for the fact that he took her research seriously, challenging her and supporting her entirely in her desire to finish her doctorate even while they were far out here away from everything. Too many doctors she'd met had held some measure of contempt for someone who was "just a nurse."

Memories of Roger, of the moment when she really grasped that he saw her as nothing more than a glorified handmaiden, come flooding back. She stands up, suddenly uncomfortable, going back to cleaning up her desk to give her something to do with her hands. McCoy stands as well and he moves right behind her, his hands on her shoulders. His voice is low and full of worry and she gets angry with herself for upsetting him over something this stupid. "Chris, what is it?"

After a momentary struggle, she manages to blurt out a single word. "Roger."

McCoy growls, and she smiles a little at his reaction. He kisses the top of her head. "What did that bastard do?"

She leans back into him and sighs again. "Roger had... expectations. Everything was supposed to be a certain way. He didn't like mess or clutter. He didn't want to talk about work after he got home for the day."

"Which shouldn't have included your work, but I'll bet it did," McCoy mutters, his arms sliding around her waist.

"Yep." She covers his arms with hers. "Although Roger never wanted to talk about my work in any case."

"Idiot."

She twists her neck to glance up at him and he rolls his eyes. "You know what I meant. So what else? Did Roger expect you to be waiting in fancy lingerie for him every night?"

Her cheeks turn pink. "Not exactly, but close enough." She glances down at her clothes again. Instinct had kicked in when McCoy appeared, the voice in her head chastising her for not being presentable even though she'd had no idea he would show up.

"He was missing out," McCoy says, his gravelly voice right in her ear, making her shiver. "You look like a student cramming for finals. I feel like a dirty old man lurking in your dorm room."

She bursts out laughing at that and turns around. He's grinning at her even as his hands come to rest on her backside.

"Seriously, Christine, I don't give a damn what you're wearing. You're still the sexiest woman I've ever seen." His body gets a little tense as he speaks and she runs her hands along his shoulders absently as his voice drops even lower. "You don't have to be anything for me."

"I know," she tells him. She plays with the flap on his dress uniform for a moment. "It's just... old habits and all that."

He nods, understanding that feeling perfectly well, she knows. He leans in and kisses her slowly, and she can't resist winding her arms around his neck. But he pulls back a minute later. "Should I go so you can get back to it? And be honest. I just wanted to see you for at least a minute, but I don't want to derail your work for the night."

She hesitates and that's enough for him to guess her answer. "Damn it, woman." He kisses her forehead and lets go. Part of her wants to pull him back and enjoy stripping the dress uniform off of him, but the deadline on her dissertation is starting to loom and she needs to get more of her background reading done.

He scoops up his shoes and heads for the door, but he pauses and turns back to her. "Just... promise me next time you come over after a shift you'll wear whatever the hell you want to wear, not what you think I think you should."

She blinks for a second trying to follow the logic of that sentence, but she gets the idea. She swipes a hand over her shirt. "Even if it's my ratty old t-shirt and pajamas?" She means it as a joke but his eyes go hot as he looks her over from head to toe.

"Given that I'm probably going to be fantasizing about how those pants are loose enough for me to get my hands under them? And how that shirt is the same color you blush when I make you come? Hell, yes."

Her breath goes in a rush but he just grins at her wickedly and calls "Good night, Chapel" as he heads out the door.

She sinks back down into her desk chair. It takes a good while before she can get her mind to focus on her reading again but eventually she manages it.


End file.
